Killing Me Softly
by SpatulaCastle
Summary: Because no matter how bitter the sting of betrayal or how deep the hatred ran they were still brothers who once loved each other, and they weren't going to fight each other for eternity. Spoilers for 5.22


A/N: I got to speculating about season six and this happened. (If you happen to be interested in the full extent of my speculation, you can read it on my LJ page which is linked on my profile)

Edit: Changed this chapter up a bit so Michael doesn't give in quite so easily this time.

Disclaimer: Did you know that these things won't do you an ounce of good? I can still be easily sued, disclaimer or not, by Eric Kripke so instead I will use this time to ask him out of the kindness of his heart to not sue me.

**Killing Me Softly**

**Chapter One**

**Hells Bells**

Sam slips back under the surface into the dark recesses of his mind as the ground closes over him and he's plunged into pitch blackness. They fall – he and Lucifer, his half-brother and Michael – for days before they finally reach Hell, and even being trapped in a cage having their flesh burned, shredded, and hacked down to the bone (the pain is a new level of agonizing, even for Sam who is only half-conscious at best) would not deter the furious archangels from having their fated battle.

Except billions of innocent people wouldn't be caught in the cross-fire.

Michael and Lucifer fight for years and Sam struggles against his possessor, at first. If either of the bastards are going to win he decides the older brother would be the safer bet because, at the very least, he isn't trying to wipe out humankind. As time passes he lets go of his body completely because it doesn't take long for them all to realize that this fight is futile. Neither of them can die in Hell; whenever they're worn down to nearly nothing they are reknit together so that the torture can start all over again.

And Sam is growing tired of the pain.

All he can think about is Dean and part of him wishes he'd never made that promise to let him rot in Hell and another part of him wants to prove he can be as strong as his big brother and begins counting to thirty. He tries not to think about the eternity that will follow, or that ten years is nothing more than a month on Earth else he just might go crazy. It's the same reason he tries not to think about Adam, too, because right now that poor kid is suffering and it's Sam's fault for pulling him into the pit. All Adam had wanted was to be back with his mother again and do something important for the world while he was at it, but now...

Sam won't think about it. He just _won't_.

Instead, he thinks of Dean whenever he starts to lose it. He thinks of the ice cream and Twinkies Dean had swiped from the convenience store a block down from their hotel when their father was out on a hunt on Sam's tenth birthday. His brother had even stuck matches in the small cream cakes as make-shift candles for him to blow out. He remembers Dean driving him to his soccer game when they were supposed to be on a hunt, protesting the entire time but unable to suppress a grin when Sam returned with a trophy; the same trophy his father, surprisingly, kept tucked away in a storage unit after lecturing his sons and pretending to throw it away. He thinks of the car games they'd play on long drives, the pranks they would pull on each other when they started getting stir-crazy, the times Dean would take care of him when he was sick and vice versa, and the rare occasions when their dad treated them to an ordinary family outing.

It's rather abrupt when Michael and Lucifer stop fighting, as though they simultaneously vented the very last ounce of their anger. For Sam, the intensity of the pain is dulled infinitesimally since his body is no longer being pummeled by an archangel and that little bit is enough to feel like Heaven. He gets so lost in this temporary, relative bliss he doesn't even notice that Lucifer and Michael have begun talking.

"He's our _Father_ how could you turn your back on Him?" Michael's voice is loud and booming but emotionless, as though every fiber of his being has been exhausted.

"Like He turned His back on us when He created those _parasites?_" Lucifer spat the word out as if it were poison._ "_Open your eyes, brother. He stopped caring about us long ago."

"Do you know how selfish you're being? You aren't His only son, Lucifer. You just couldn't stand it when He started paying more attention to them than you, so you threw a tantrum. If you'd been a better son you never would have been cast down."

"A better son? A _good_ son, like you? Tell me, Michael, where has that gotten you? You think our Father doesn't have the power to save you from this cage?"

"I'm here for a reason. He wouldn't leave me here if..."

"What reason could there possibly be?" Lucifer begins to circle his brother like an opponent – like prey. "You can't kill me. I can't escape regardless of whether or not you're here keeping watch." He comes to a stop in front of Michael, barely a foot away and staring the older archangel straight in the eye. "You can pretend all you want brother. Dad just can't be bothered to pull His 'good son' out of Hell."

"That's not true." Michael straightens with conviction, voice unwavering. "He has a reason. He has a reason for everything."

Lucifer frowns and steps back. "Listen to you, blindly believing in Him while He leaves you to rot for eternity. You accuse me of being desperate for attention when you're no different: A little boy playing the perfect little soldier to win Daddy's affection."

Michael's response is to shatter Lucifer's (or rather Sam's) sternum with a solid kick that sends the fallen archangel flying. Sam is knocked from his stupor and he's left sobbing in the back of his mind because his minor reprieve has shattered along with most of his ribcage, and he doesn't even notice until several days later that he's hit the 30 year mark.

30 down and forever to go.

It's almost another ten years before Michael and Lucifer stop fighting again, though the younger brother never ceases in his verbal assault. It's easier this time for him to chip away at his older brother's faith; his resolve is starting to crack and Lucifer has always been good at finding chinks in the armor.

"He isn't coming for you. He's never coming for you."

"Yes He will! He will save me!" Michael was beginning to flounder now, still clinging desperately to the dissolving fragments of his faith. "I've done everything He's ever asked, I've never once complained! He has no reason to leave me here!"

"Yet here you are." Lucifer moved closer - within striking distance, confidant he would not be knocked aside again. "This is His cruelty, brother. This is why I rebelled. You and I both know you've done nothing to deserve Hell." Sympathy seeps into the soft edges of his voice, striking his older brother's heart as true as any sword.

Michael is silent for a long time and while Lucifer doesn't smile, Sam can _feel_ the coy smirk bubbling just beneath the surface and he tenses. He desperately tries to take control, to speak to Michael for himself and warn him that this is only another of Lucifer's deceptions, but he can't even hope to struggle with his mind so broken and tormented. Even if he could, he isn't sure there is anything he could say to abolish the growing seed of doubt planted in Michael's mind. A tiny part of him isn't sure he _wants_ to because Hell is _Hell_ and if whatever his possessor is scheming happens to bust them out...

And Sam cries because he no longer cares if the devil gets free again so long as he can get out too, and he's ashamed of himself and sick of the pain and anguish and seeing the little brother he never got a chance to know living through torture he didn't deserve. Everything hurts so unbelievably bad he just wants to scream and thrash and hurt the nearest thing he can get his hands on and more than anything he wants and needs to see Dean.

"Stand with me, Michael."

But for all that Michael feels betrayed, he's still clinging to hope and he can not find it within himself to condone the things his younger brother has done. He wants more than anything to go back to that day when he'd first cast the archangel into Hell – he wants to be able to do things differently, to try harder to reason with his brother, to turn him away from this path even though he knew from the beginning it was all an unavoidable fate. He wants Lucifer to be his little brother again, not a monster that he has to kill.

"Lucifer..."

"I'm not a monster," Lucifer speaks frankly as though he'd read Michael's mind (and maybe he had), his gaze softening. "I am as I was made, can't you see that? Our Father _knew _all along that this would happen. He's the one who made you cast me down. You don't think He could have changed any of that?"

Michael falls silent, unsure of how to respond.

'Don't listen to him!' The small part of Sam that is still _Sam_ wants to shout. 'He's wrong! After everything that's happened, how can you still believe there's such a thing as fate!'

And suddenly, Sam's mind is bombarded with familiar images. Memories that he had flooded Lucifer's mind with as he stood over Dean's bloodied and broken form, fist raised in preparation to strike. Lucifer had felt genuine hurt at being called a monster by Michael, had taken that out on Dean for his own obvious loyalty to Sam. It was exactly the chink in the armor Sam needed to wrestle back control of his body and knowing Dean wouldn't leave him – even after everything he'd done – was all it had taken to bolster his willpower and let go of his anger.

Now, Lucifer was using those same memories to tear him back down.

Sam missed Dean. Even more than wanting to stop this torture and to no longer be a prisoner of his own body, he wanted to be with his brother again. He wanted to drive for hours down an empty stretch of road, listening to the same ten classic rock tapes over and over again while Dean sang along and smirked because he just _knew_ how much it irked him. He wanted to stay in cheap motels, watch bad television, research their latest hunt, get into an argument with his brother over something stupid, maybe hustle some pool, and finally learn the finer points of poker. He wanted to sit on the hood of the Impala with Dean drinking beer and watching the stars dot the sky one by one after the sun had sunk below the horizon.

"I can't." They're Michael's words but they come out as hesitant and unsure as Sam feels.

"Please." And the look on Lucifer's face freezes him in place because it's exactly how his little brother had looked all those centuries ago when he'd first begged him for help. "He may be our father, but he has to answer for the things He's done – for the things He _hasn't_ done."

Michael doesn't respond, but it's plain to see on his face that his fragile resolve is slipping closer and closer to the edge...

"I want to show Him all the suffering His _plan_ has caused."

...teetering on the precipice...

"And I want us to be brothers again."

...until it topples completely and scatters into a million broken pieces.

"Michael, will you help me?"

Michael's voice is thick and strained but his gaze on Lucifer is steady.

"...Yes, brother."

And Lucifer is smiling and Sam's spirits can't help but rise even while his heart plummets into his stomach when the devil speaks again.

"Then I suppose we should start by getting out of here."

A/N: As of right now, this is going to stand as a one shot BUT if the plot bunny starts chewing on my brain I might end up making it into a full-fledged story.

Edit: As of right now, the plot bunny nibbled and this is going to turn into a three-shot sometime in the future. This has also given me an idea for a Supernatural/Firefly crossover... but that's going to have to wait.


End file.
